My baby is a toddler and other musings….

Hudson

 

I haven’t purposely taken a hiatus, but life has been nothing short of crazy. I was recently reflecting¬†over the past five months, and it’s a miracle that I haven’t had to be medicated. ūüėČ However, as¬†I began thinking though over the past two years, it really seems we’ve had a “charmed life” as my Memaw likes to say.

Since Hudson joined the world and became a part of our family, we’ve really had it easy. Sure there was a short, rough period of transition after he arrived, but he’s brought nothing but joy and calm to my life. From the day we brought him home from the hospital, I referred to him as my “chill boy,” and he still is (at least in comparison to his big brother). He still wants to hold my hand, give hugs and kisses, and even if he tries to wander, he always come running back exclaiming “Mama!” with the biggest smile on his face.

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Today, he is two. He is no longer a snuggly, wrinkly newborn or a baby attached to my boobs hip. He’s an explorer, testing his independence, keeping up with his big brother, and holding his own in wrestling matches. I am so thankful for his presence in our family!

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Day 13: And then my heart broke {#write31days}

To say I’ve been emotional and overwhelmed lately is an understatement! We’ve had two nights in our “new house” and I desperately want it to feel like home, but I know that will take time. I’ve made pretty good headway in the way of unpacking and putting away–focusing first on the boys’ room and all their things. I do wish someone had given me a little more of a warning in how much a move can really affect little ones. I tend to think they’re so resilient and forget that changes can be just as difficult for them.

Our first attempt at nap time was yesterday, and my strong-willed red-head flat out told me he wasn’t going to take a nap…after a lengthy back and forth conversation he finally said “it’s hard because it’s different.” I couldn’t agree more. He’s carried his basket of choo-choos everywhere–I’m sure he’s afraid it’s going to be packed away or put somewhere he won’t be able to find.

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Then, last night at bed time he said some words that made my heart break a little….“I want to go home.” I wanted to say, “me too,” but instead I explained that we were home, but it was new and hard. I explained all the positive things about our new house–closer to Dadda’s football field, closer to Nana & Papa’s, Lolli & Pops’, has a much bigger yard, and a really cool park and “ducks’ pond” nearby. He just responded by saying he wanted to go to his “red house.” We talked a little more about our move and all our toys being at the new house, and when I asked why he wanted his “red house,” he replied he wanted his dirty garage. ūüôā (our new house doesn’t have a garage)

We finished our conversation, and he asked me to hold him and fell asleep in my arms. And I cried. And cried. And cried.

I “know” we’ve made the right decision, and I “know” my strong-willed red-head will barely remember his “red house” in a few years, and this new house WILL start to feel like home, but in the meantime, my heart may continue to break a little. Any tips on making the transition happier for my boys?

Well, poop.

Almost four years ago, I was expecting my first child. With that came certain expectations–in all honesty, I wanted a girl. I wanted a dainty, precious, tender-hearted sweet girl who would sleep on a schedule, never get into anything dirty, play with dolls, and paint nails. God has a sense of humor, and at times it seems a little twisted to me. Four years and two boys later there is nothing dainty about our house, and there is LOTS. OF. DIRT. See this precious face….would you guess that this face has to be washed EVERY night because it’s usually covered in dirt, snot, food, and who knows what else?

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That sweet face, well, he ate poop. The hubby and I were sanding and cleaning off the siding on the¬†house in an effort to get ready to sell (whole other post), and the boys were playing at their sand table. I glanced to do a check and make sure they were still getting along somewhat peacefully. I was puzzled when I noticed H was chewing something with¬†a rather disgusted look on his face. Immediate panic set in when I crammed my fish-hook finger in his mouth to scrape out what he was chewing…poop. Dang dog poop. In four years we’ve had our fair share of poop encounters, but this was the grossest to me…my child was eating poop. I debated googling what to do, but figured that would just end in the assumption that he was going to die from it, so cringing, I broke out the water hose, did my best to scrape any remains of feces out of his precious mouth, and let him guzzle water.

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Thank you God for your sense of humor, precious boys who eat dirt and poop, but thank you most of all for letting them survive it! Also, if my little guy ever argues with me about trying a new food, I’m going to remind him that he was willing to try dog poop, so he sure as heck can try anything!

 

Three Point Five {on my baby being three and a half}

T I M E   F L I E S

Last night, he walked out of the garage to follow his daddy and “help” mow. I reminded him about staying off the street because of “fast cars,” and he immediately replied “I’ll be fine” with a thumbs up. I laughed on the outside, but mostly in an effort to avoid crying.

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Everyday he says something clever, new, and I am amazed at what a spectacular young man God has given us. I worry (waaaaaaaaaay too much) that the influences of the outside world, other people, and media will harm him, but I MUST remember that our Heavenly Father loves him infinitely more than I can even begin to imagine.

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He admires his Daddy, me, and by the Grace of God, we’ll do our best to show him Christ’s love and help him learn that his greatest calling is to glorify God, love Him and love others.

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Having him look at me with his 3 and half year old wisdom and say “I’ll be fine,” was a heavenly reminder that God is in control and the plans He has for my little man are greater than any I can think of.

DSC_6775He is a fierce lover (and sometimes fighter), passionate, assertive, creative, intuitive, and just plain fun! I can’t wait to see what the rest of “three” is like!

Brownie Baking {also known as the time I realized my baby isn’t a baby}

So, my hubby took some fun pictures of C licking the brownie bowl. (Sorry, Betty Crocker, I know you have a note on the back of your box saying never to consume raw brownie batter, but c’mon! In my world, 87% of the reason I make brownies is so I can lick the bowl and/or spoon.) Anyway, when I uploaded these images, I may have gotten a little teary. My baby is not a baby, and I’ve known this for a while, but now he doesn’t even look like a toddler! He is a boy! A small man-child!

Random side-note: we have been ruined and can no longer make brownies without adding Reese’s peanut butter chips.

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Picture Dump

I’ve been playing around on PSE 10 and making a few collages and things…

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I.T.S. {Irrational Toddler Syndrome}

My kid has ITS. I don’t need a doctor’s diagnosis. I just know. Sometimes I wish there was a “quick fix,” a pill, or anything other than my desperate R E P E A T E D attempts to bestow some sort of logic or reason into my child. Don’t misunderstand, my boy is a JOY, a BLESSING, and I wouldn’t give him up for all the world…however, there are times when I think it is SO odd that a person of such small stature can have such strong, absolutely INSANE opinions. And without fail, his irrationality can cause me to lose my mind and become irrational as well. Is ITS contagious?!? I’m sure my baby will catch on soon.

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Some irrational behaviors include:

  • any drop of water on any article of clothing means ALL clothes must come off IMMEDIATELY. (perhaps he’ll melt if not?)
  • related to water on clothing…washing his hair. I’ve been afraid that the neighbors will report us for disturbing the peace or domestic disturbance. If you listen in on a hair washing, you would probably assume he’s being murdered.
  • tags on clothing…remove all the tags! (if not extreme whining and somewhat comical attempts at removing the clothing will ensue)
  • a deathly fear of spiders (but he’ll kill a fly or squish a worm with his bare hands)
  • if he’s cold, then a blanket must cover E V E R Y inch of him up to his neck. If any appendage is peeking out from under said blanket, prepare for wailing and gnashing of teeth.
  • swings and slides–he must be coaxed to do any of them alone, but if he’s playing with friends, he’ll be quick to find the top of the slide. (We’re still trying to convince him that he’s “too big” for the baby swing. Pops attempted a little over Easter weekend. He LOVED it on Pops’ lap, but HATED it on his own.)

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If anyone knows of a cure for ITS, I’d love to hear it. For now, we use bribery, distraction, discipline, prayer…and we cut tags out of clothing, avoid spiders and wet shirts, and rarely wash hair.DSC_6071web

I’m sure someday we’ll look back and laugh at this. In the meantime, we’re gonna work on explaining 1 Timothy 1:7 “For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a SOUND MIND.”

My Chill Boy {16 Months}

An ode to 16 months…

Climbing, whining, teething, clinging.

Smiles, Brown Bear, Brown Bear, ¬†brothers laughing, chasing…thuds, screaming!

“Puppy!” “Doggy!” “Izzy!” belly laughs.

Applesauce pouches, pasta, FRUIT, goldfish crackers, Momma’s milk.

Raspberries on my belly, gap-toothed grins, chasing bubbles.

“Nana” “Papa” “lalalala” “Dadda,” dimpled cheeks.

Squirmy, running, exploring, spinning, ear-tugging.

Water play, eating dirt, dirt in hair, running in rain, chin-quivering grins.

Sweet snuggles, lap-sitting, airplane-watching,

up

and

down

up

and

down

stairs, couches, steps, beds.

Bouncing, bouncing, Momma’s songs….lean to the left, itsy bitsy spider, VEGGIE TALES.

Climbing, whining, teething, clinging.

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My sweet chill boy (when you’re not teething),

I love you so! You bring us such joy and laughter. Your big brother loves to play (and sometimes torture) you. Your daddy loves to make you laugh, and I count you as one of God’s greatest gifts.

You are a treasure, worth more than anything under the sun or the moon.

Love, Momma

 

Epic Parenting Quote #3

forksandswords

 

You know, because brothers enjoy fighting more than eating.

Epic Parenting Quote #2

cowAhh, bedtime routines with a three-year old Master Negotiator. {Seriously, the thought has already crossed my mind that when he grows up, he’ll be the guy on the phone with someone talking them through a hostage situation.} The hubby and I joke about Stall Tactics, but it’s only a joke to keep from losing our mind. Our Negotiator’s favorite Stall Tactics include pooping, reading about Jesus, and my personal favorite, praying…hard to say no to that one. Of course, he’s always suddenly starving or thirsty even though he’s turned away half his dinner. He also is more eager to read at bedtime than any other time as well.

When I saw this post from Glennon at Momastery, I couldn’t help but relate! It’s possible that someday I’ll miss all the interruptions and not having to convince a Master Negotiator¬†that there isn’t a monster or cow in his room (btw, he mooed quietly before crying to me about a cow scaring him), but for now, I’d just like him to go to sleep without hearing 371 different Stall Tactics.